Maybe I can make this work.
It’s an imperfect solution. But if I have to go through another week like the one I just had, I’m going to crack and cry and spill my guts to Mom, and it will doom the dear little doggo I’ve fallen in love with.
After I’ve walked all the dogs, I bike back to the patch of woods. I jam Vlad the Rapid into the underbrush next to Sir Reginald Bevis and pick my way toward the tent. Ash is curled up on her sleeping bag outside it with Chewbarka in her arms. She must not hear me, because she’s staring up at the trees with a sad, worried look on her face. “Hi,” I say softly so I don’t startle her.
“Oh!” She sits up fast and smiles. “Hi! Welcome home. Or welcome back. Whichever. Thanks for the food. Especially the cheese. Cheese is my favorite food.”
I smile at her blush. “Look what I got.” I hold up the diapers and brush.
She giggles. “Are those for your rule-of-thirds photo assignment?”
“Totally. I’ll stage them on a peed-on blanket.”
“I tried to make a diaper out of my T-shirt. It didn’t work out so great.”
We give Chewy a good brushing and get some of the mats out of her fur. As we’re trying to figure out how the diaper goes on, I tell Ash my Dad Plan for tomorrow. Our hands keep brushing together as we put Chewbarka’s legs through the leg holes. When I pull her fuzzy tail through, Ash’s wrist bumps mine and a wave of heat goes through me.
Once the diaper’s on, we both crack up. It’s flattened Chewbarka’s back-end fuzziness and her butt looks super tiny compared to the rest of her. “That’s so adorable,” Ash says. “And sad. Sad-dorable. Oh! Check out what I discovered.” She gently touches Chewbarka’s nose and Chewy’s tongue falls out the side of her mouth. “You boops the snoot, you gets the blep!”
Both of us laugh. I reach out and squeeze Ash’s hand, then quickly let go. I don’t know if she’s more surprised by it or I am. “I wish I could bike you to your apartment. But my mom’s probably wondering why I’m not home yet.”
“It’s fine,” she says. “I have junk I gotta get done today. Lunch with my dad and I’m gonna go see this girl Zoey’s band tonight.” While she rolls up Darth Vader, she tells me about running into Zoey at PetSmart and getting invited to her band practice. She stands up and brushes Chewbarka’s hair off her shirt. “Do you think your dad will understand? Or do you think he’ll tell your mom?”
I kick at a stick. “I don’t know. I can’t tell him what’s really up, you know?”
“Why not? You haven’t done anything wrong.”
“Well—” I press my arms to my chest. “It’s sort of . . . it’s maybe more complicated than I told you.”
Ashley’s brow furrows.
I press my lips together and look down. My eyes are starting to sting. “I, um.” I take a deep breath. “So some guy brought Chewbarka to the vet to be killed.” I spill the story, explaining how I not only have to protect Chewbarka but Tina too, and how telling any grown-ups could result in Chewbarka getting killed and Tina getting fired. I can’t look at Ash while I’m talking. My throat closes up and my eyes water when I explain I wasn’t sure who I could trust, that I just wanted to keep Chewbarka safe.
The tears spill over when I think about that guy walking away from his sweet little leaky, lovey-dovey dog he paid to have killed. I turn away and wipe my face. “I’m sorry,” I say with my back to Ash. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you before.”
She’s silent for a moment. And then I feel her hand on my shoulder. “I get it,” she says softly. “And I’m even more glad I could help.” I hear her kneel and pick up Chewbarka. She moves in front of me, holding the dog. “I want to help. When you take her to your dad tomorrow.”
“You don’t have to.” I smear my face, light-years beyond embarrassed.
“I know I don’t have to. But I want to. I care about Chewbarka too, you know.”
It would be so good to have her along. “Really?”
She nods. “Where should we meet? What time?”
I half gulp. She’s actually going to help me. “My mom leaves for church at eight fifteen. How about by the dollar store on the corner of Kenmere and Montgomery at eight thirty?”
“I’m there like a mama bear.” She laughs. “I don’t even know what that means.”
I smile. “Seriously, Ash, thank you. It’s good to have a friend again.”
“Again?”
“Yeah.” I take a breath. “As long as I’m spilling my guts . . . I had a best friend for like forever. Cole.” Where do I even start with this? “So, last spring, he started hanging around with this girl Erin Rogers.” I explain how I thought he liked her, but he said he was crushing on Fiona, and that he decided to throw an end-of-year party with a spin-the-bottle game so he’d maybe get to kiss her. And how awkward it was that Mitch liked Fiona too, and that Cole had invited him not knowing that. I tell Ash I didn’t want to play the game, but everyone else was and it looked weird that I wasn’t. I tell her how when Fiona spun it stopped on me, and how no one else had backed out and I didn’t want Fiona to feel rejected, and that the kiss was quick but still sort of had some tongue because that’s what everyone else was jokingly doing, and that it was just enough to enrage both Cole and Mitchell. I tell her Cole didn’t talk to me for the rest of the party, that he texted me while Mom was driving me and Mitchell home and said, You French-kissed the girl you knew I liked RIGHT IN FRONT OF ME.
“Well . . . what were
